


Wilted Roses

by QueenDromeda Archive (QueenDromeda)



Series: odds-and-ends romance [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Remus Lupin deserves more tbh, Wakes & Funerals, tfw a funeral happens instead of a wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 01:51:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7738846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenDromeda/pseuds/QueenDromeda%20Archive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How ironic it was that he was now walking down the aisle, the very one that was going to be used in his wedding, to say his final words. To say goodbye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wilted Roses

**Author's Note:**

> I hate myself. This is so sad. Why do I do this to myself?

_One step._

His feet were heavy, his eyes were red. His breath came in raspy gulps, selfishly relying on oxygen when his lover would never inhale the poison again. The reality of everything came crashing down, as soon as his gaze landed on the polished coffin at the end of the walkway.

How ironic that he was now walking down the aisle, the very one that was going to be used in their wedding, to say his final words. To say goodbye. Once upon a time, when reading a tale like this in a book, he would have scoffed, maybe even laughed at the absurdity of it all. But those days were gone.

(And he couldn’t even remember what laughing felt like now).

_And another._

The overwhelming smell of death hit him. Not finding a body death, but rather the surgically clean scent of hospitals and latex gloves. He didn’t like it one bit. Regulus wouldn’t have wanted this. His boyfriend would have wanted it to smell like chai tea or a fire, maybe even a forest. Anything but this.

A memory of their first date hit him hard; slowing his rapid heartbeat, freezing his blood. Everything was happy then, and, more importantly, everyone was happy then. They’d gone out to the local pub, much to Reg’s chagrin, and spent the whole night drinking and talking. He drank whiskey, but his boyfriend stuck to chai tea. He didn’t even know places like that made tea, but Regulus did, and he would always get it.

(But now he would never tease him about his quirks).

_You’re so close._

Against his will, Remus feels tears began to fill his eyes. He would not cry; not now. His mouth was dry, and his heartbeat was pounding in his ears. The coffin was so close that if he balanced on his toes, he would see the body resting, all too still, in it’s satiny confines. 

In his head when imagining the future, he always pictured himself as the one who would die first; the one recklessly destroying his life. After all, he was the Gryffindor, not him. He had absolutely no reason to jump in front of the little muggle child, who was playing in the road. Regulus had no right to play hero and leave him alone 

(But he did and now he’d never do anything again). 

_Stop._

Here he is, the figurative “end of the line”. Looking down, his hands clenched tightly around the bouquet in his hands, Remus can't help but look away at first. This man is not the man he loved. This man is dressed to the tee in fancy wizard robes; he wore more layers of clothing than Remus has fingers on his hands. 

This man was not the lively, Regulus Black he fell in love with. Regulus was always smiling, even if it was only noticeable in the way his eyebrows were arching. Regulus was never so pale, he never looked so deathly. Regulus would open his eyes and smile at Remus, laughing and saying “It was just a joke” whereas this man would never move again. 

The flowers fell from his hands, landing sloppily onto the bodies padded chest. It seemed oddly appropriate, that way. A bunch of wilting roses on a dead man; both things that will never be well again. 

(And both things that were once cherished by a man who will never live again- not because his heart stopped or his lungs failed, but because he had nothing left to life for.) 


End file.
